


Forbidden Fruit

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blasphemy, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, London era, Outdoor Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: James is led into temptation by Miranda - or is he led into revelation?





	Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rarepairs Week 2018. Day two: Canon rarepair.  
> This is also a prompt fill for @benditlikerackham : Flint/Miranda, "You’re crazy! You’re out of your mind!”. At long last!

It was a crisp September morning when James stepped out with Miranda for a walk. He'd joined the Hamiltons in their country home the night before, a quiet place far from London and its worries. Thomas was still sleeping, but James and Miranda, both early risers, had been in the mood for some fresh air. Besides, James felt he still had much to explore if he wanted to know the house and grounds any better. All of this – the place, staying with the Hamiltons, being their lover – was still quite new to him.

They walked through the house's gardens, and then took the path that led beyond them. On a grassy knoll stood a clump of apple trees. It stood there like a gateway between the tidy garden and the wilder woodland of the house's grounds, thickets and trees teeming with life. Perhaps Miranda noticed that the orchard had caught James' eye, because she pulled him off the path and into the dewy grass.

“You'll get your shoes wet,” he remarked. He was perfectly aware that his warnings would have no effect on her whatsoever, but someone ought to be the voice of reason.

Miranda halted with a chuckle, then stooped in the grass. A few moments later, she handed him her shoes.

“And your dress,” James added dryly, though he was rather amused.

The grin Miranda gave him then was the wickedest thing he had ever seen. It sent a jolt through him, robbing him of breath for a moment. She continued through the meadow, the hem of her mantua and skirts leaving a trail of bruised grass behind them.

The trees were heavy with fruit, their apples small and firm, not quite ripe yet but already streaked with red. Miranda reached for one, delicate fingers ghosting over the rough peel. James couldn't help but stare transfixed at the picture before him. The lady in her finery, skirts sodden with dew, delicately touching an apple in the dim morning light. It could be a painting.

And then Miranda turned towards him and began removing the pins that fastened the stomacher to her bodice and mantua.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“You know perfectly well what I'm doing,” she said, delicately pulling the stomacher free, then balancing it in fork between two branches.

James stood dumbstruck for what seemed like an eternity, fascinated by the sight of Miranda carefully removing her mantua, then her many skirts, until she stood in the orchard only wearing her chemise. The sun beamed down briefly onto her, flooding the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder, making her hair glisten in honeyed tones before the clouds swallowed the light again.

“Well?” Miranda called out, chuckling. “Are you just going to stand there, Lieutenant?”

“You're crazy!” He strode up towards her, not quite able to keep a straight face. For all reply, she wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down into a searing kiss. “You're out of your mind!” His voice was muffled by her lips, and by the chuckle that shook all through him even as he tried to repress it.

“Not at all,” she said, unbuttoning his jacket. “Were Adam and Eve not naked, when the world began?”

“I should have known you'd bring blasphemy into this sooner or later.”

“'And they were both naked, the man and his wife',” Miranda quoted, eyes glimmering, fingers unbuttoning his jacket, “'and were not ashamed.' Is it blasphemy to quote the Holy Book?”

“I'd think it is, when you're quoting it whilst engaged in…”

Miranda raised her eyebrows at him, a smirk on her lips. Her hands pushed under his jacket; they burned hot on his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. James wasn't sure how to end that sentence without being indelicate.

“In what, dearest?” She pushed at his jacket, pulling it and his coat off his shoulders. “In adultery? In sin?”

What was it about the way “sin” vibrated in her throat that made Miranda all the more alluring? James only broke away from her spellbinding eyes when he felt his clothes fall off his shoulders. He scrambled to pick them off the wet grass before they got stained.

“You'll be my ruin, you know?” James said over his shoulder as he arranged his jacket and coat on a high branch. Miranda's arms wrapped around his middle, her hands working at his belt, her mouth dispensing biting kisses all along the back of his neck. Delightful shivers coursed down his spine. For this, just for this, he wouldn't mind being ruined.

“Is it adultery if you are my other husband?” she murmured into his ear. “You are ours now, and Thomas and I are yours. I thought we had made that abundantly clear.”

He could have cried. Their affection had been clear enough, but never had Miranda actually uttered those words, and never had he expected it from her. James stood there silent with a lump in his throat until Miranda firmly grasped his hips and turned him around. She wrapped her arms around him, dropping kisses all over his cheeks and lips.

“Come, love,” she murmured, taking both his hands and sliding them under her chemise, between her breasts. Her heart beat into his palm, strong and steady.

James' mouth twisted into a smile; Miranda leaned up and devoured it with her lips, pressing herself against him, pushing down his breeches.

“Grass,” James muttered automatically, all the while trying to kick off his boots. He grasped a branch for balance while he pulled off his boots then his breeches. It was all a little undignified, and definitely chilly in the morning air. He heard Miranda chuckle at him.

When he next looked up, Miranda stood entirely naked before him. She had a green apple from the tree cupped in her hand and was gazing at it, seemingly lost in thought.

“'And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food',” Miranda recited, looking up at James with a mischievous expression, “'and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat'.” Here, she took a bite from the apple. She winced ever so slightly, then a smile spread on her face. She offered James the apple. “And gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.”

James took the apple from Miranda's hands reverently, keenly aware of his heart thumping in his chest. He bit into the fruit, and tears sprang into his eyes again. Not with emotion, this time, but at the unbearable sourness in his mouth.

“Christ,” he muttered around his mouthful of apple, trying his best to chew rather than spit it out.

“And I thought you were worried about blasphemy.”

Laughter bubbled up in James' chest, even as he managed to swallow the devilish piece of fruit. Miranda chuckled with him, leaning against the tree, arms draped on low branches.

“I know of much better fruit,” James murmured, kissing her lips again. Her mouth still tasted of underripe apple. He sucked at her lips, cleaning the sticky sour juices from them. He kissed down her throat, thrilling at the way her fingers tangled in his hair, half-pulling it out of its tie.

James stooped to lick a long stripe up one of her breasts, and another, and another. Her skin was soft and faintly salty beneath his lips, and he revelled at the sensation of her hardened nipple in his mouth. Miranda's breath came faster, he could hear her heart thud beside his ear as he moved to suck at her other breast in his mouth.

Miranda quivered beneath him, arching up against him with wanton moans, and only then did James slowly lower himself to his knees. His hands moved down along Miranda's waist, settling on her hips. He glanced up at her, and she down at him; the smile they shared made James' heart stutter in his chest. He bent his head to press a kiss to the dark curls that obscured the sight of the fruit that he loved above all.

James slid his tongue along the centre of it, parting it open and causing Miranda to shiver. He teased with his tongue and the tip of his nose, exploring, tasting. Miranda was sweet, salty and slightly tangy all at once, the scent of her musky and intoxicating. James nestled further between her thighs, discovering her with his tongue, revelling in the taste of her. She shifted beneath him, impatient, thrusting her clitoris towards his face. When he licked it, she shuddered against him and tightened her grip on his hair, her nails grazing his scalp.

Never had James imagined himself worshipping anything; he was far too jaded for that and had been ever since he was a child. But when he knelt between Miranda's thighs and she pressed herself into his face, nothing else existed. He licked and sucked at her with fervour, marvelled at the moans and gasps he elicited, and when ecstasy took over her and her body pulsed and squeezed around his fingers it felt like nothing short of a miracle, even though he had witnessed it many times before.

Miranda stood against the tree, thighs glistening with her own arousal, knees shaking under the force of her own pleasure. James gazed up at her, breathless. He'd grown impossibly hard while he'd buried his face in Miranda's cunt, and felt himself leak a little when Miranda glanced down and gave him a playful smile. A few moments later she lowered herself in the grass beside him and pushed him down onto his back. The grass was cold and damp, and James' skin instantly covered in gooseflesh, but Miranda paid it no heed.

“Now you have eaten the forbidden fruit,” Miranda murmured with a smirk. Her fingers wrapped around James' cock and he let out an embarrassingly needy whine. “So tell me, my love, are your eyes opened, as Adam's were?”

He looked up at her, at her dishevelled hair, the glow on her cheeks, the twinkle in her eye. Christ, but he adored her. Never had it been clearer to him as it was now, in an orchard in the dewy morning. “They are,” he murmured.

Miranda bent down to kiss him, long and lewd, her tongue drawing moans from James even has her fingers teased the length of his cock. She was merciless in her torment, shifting to straddle him and rub her slick clit along the length of him. He squeezed her arse between his hands, grinding up against her even as he noticed her breath growing shorter, her cheeks growing redder.

“And now that your eyes are opened, do you feel any shame?”

James laughed, but the answer he wanted to give stayed stuck in his throat. He could feel himself blush under her watchful eyes, the burn unpleasant and embarrassing. Miranda bent to suck at his Adam's apple, still rutting against his cock.

“Do you, James? Even now that you are ours, and we yours?”

“No,” he ground out, his voice strangled but sincere. At least, he wished it to be.

“Good,” she breathed against him, kissing him deeply. Her fingers wrapped around his cock again, and she guided him inside. Engulfed in the heat of her, James couldn't help the wanton moan he let out, nor the way his hips tilted up to buck inside her. Miranda moaned too, meeting his movements, squeezing him tight.

James watched in awe as Miranda arched backwards, riding him hard and fast now, sliding a hand where their bodies met to stroke herself. The clouds tore open above them, letting the sun beam down on her, haloing her head. As James marvelled at the sight, Miranda came with a loud gasp, quivering and clenching around him.

“Fuck!” James barely realised how loud he'd cried. He followed Miranda into ecstasy, squeezed tight inside of her, gripping her hips as though his life depended on it.

They lay in the tall grass, Miranda's head on James' chest, her body warming his where they touched. James knew he'd cried out, knew that Miranda would never be able to get dressed properly without her maid's help, and was painfully aware that if her staff didn't know what was going on between them, they were sure to know now.

Yet in this moment he didn't care. Miranda's hair felt like silk under his fingers as he stroked it, the sun shone down on them, and a thrush piped its sweet song in a tree nearby. In that moment there was no shame – only them, and the prospect of returning to Thomas. James closed his eyes and basked in the glory of it.


End file.
